Now, I was still wearing the leggings I put on this morning, and my blonde hair was thrown back into a messy ponytail. I couldn’t even remember the last time I wore makeup. I knew that image was essential to be in the PR business, but I just couldn’t be fucked to impress anyone anymore.

As I made my way through the thick crowd, people barely looked at me. It was like I was invisible—something I used to fear but now welcomed. And it wasn’t until I elbowed a girl in the ribcage to introduce myself to Oakley that someone noticed I was intruding on their party. “Whoa,” a guy with olive skin and rust-colored hair said. I had seen him in quite a few of Oakley’s posts on Instagram, so I assumed that they were friends. I quickly scanned my thoughts to remember his name. Ah, yes. Dale.

“Excuse me,” I said politely with a smile.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where are you off to, hmm?” he asked while positioning himself in front of me. His breath reeked of cheap beer. I nervously tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear before answering him.

“I need to speak with Oakley Davis,” I asserted, trying to sound professional despite our environment. Dale frowned for a moment, then quickly schooled his face into a smirk. I stored the brief crack in his relaxed appearance away to think about later. I wasn’t really a fan of frenemies and needed to protect my client at all costs.

“I can introduce you,” he offered. “But fair warning, you’re definitely not his type.”

I didn’t honestly give a single fuck if I was Oakley Davis’s type or not. But I was curious about what his friends thought about him. If they were quick to loosen their lips and talk shit about their teammate, I needed to know. Any information I could get on the school’s star running back was useful, so I entertained Dale for a little longer.

“And why exactly do you think I’m not his type?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

He looked me up and down in a single sweltering swoop. I felt my cheeks heat, and I took the lingering moment to stare right back at him. Dale was kind of hot. He didn’t command the room quite like his teammate, but there was a playful energy about him that felt authentic and genuine. Dale was confident; his blatant staring was proof enough of that. He was also flirtatious. “Don’t get me wrong, you definitely look the part. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Legs for days, and lips any man with half a testicle would lose his shit over.” As he spoke, he took a step closer.

“I sense a but coming on,” I replied, making him laugh. Dale’s dark chuckle made my skin buzz.